Father's Day
by brit-lovaas
Summary: "You can love someone like your son, even if he's not your biological son, and you can love someone like your father, even if he's not your biological father." Takes place after the events of Silent Hill 3. Oneshot.


_(NOTE: This is from my old account, so no, I did not steal it.)_

**(·.·´·. ¸.·;Father's Day·.¸.·´·.·´)**

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_"You can love someone like your son, even if he's not your biological son, and you can love someone like your father, even if he's not your biological father."_

_Oliver Hudson_

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"Hey, Douglas." A hand had grabbed onto the older gentleman's shoulder and begun to shake it lightly. "Wake up!"

Douglas grumbled in his sleep, pulling the blanket over his head. "Not now, Hea-" He silently cursed himself for his slip up. "_Cheryl._ 's too early. . ." He couldn't figure out why she was up at this hour, but he didn't think too much about it. He just wanted to go back to sleep.

The blanket was pulled back, spilling golden sun into his vision. He sighed, turned around in the bed, and glared up at the girl. She looked rather pleased.

Her smile widened. "Don't you want to eat the wonderful breakfast I whipped up for you? I made your favorite. A ham and swiss cheese omelette with a side of hash browns.

Douglas raised a brow. "Can't it wait?"

"I made coffee."

She knew him too well.

He watched her for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before replying. ". . . Fine," he grumbled. "Just wait for me in the kitchen."

Douglas began to sit up on the edge of the bed while Cheryl turned on her heel - in her pink rabbit slippers, he noted - and headed out the bedroom door. He rested an elbow against his knee and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. It was still too early.

It took him a few minutes to freshen up and get dressed, which meant he only added a worn out blue bathrobe to his current attire. He didn't have anywhere to be today, so he saw little reason to bother putting on anything else. Besides, it was a hell of a lot more comfortable than anything else he owned.

Before leaving his bedroom to join Cheryl in the kitchen, he slipped on his brown slippers, which, he could feel, had a large hole on the bottom underneath his heal. Was everything he owned that old? Was it just him that was old? Douglas shook his head. Age was a rather touchy subject for him.

He took his time walking down the hallway, still trying to get himself to wake up. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so groggy. Douglas ran a hand through his thinning gray hair, thinking about how nice a cup of coffee sounded that the moment. And an omelette. And hash browns.

Damn, she really did know him too well.

Stepping into the kitchen, Douglas found himself at a loss for words. The small wooden table that sat next to the window on the far end was draped with a clean white sheet, and a lovely breakfast was set on top of it. Two plates were sitting on the table, both with an omelette placed on top, and hash browns sitting to the side of it. One plate had a cool glass of orange juice next to it, and the other had a steaming cup of coffee.

Douglas didn't realize how hungry he was until he actually saw and smelled food. He began to make his way to the table when footsteps sounded from behind. He paused, turned around, and found Cheryl holding a box covered in dark blue wrapping paper. Silver string wrapped around the present, and a matching bow sat on top.

She gave him a quick smile before stepping past him and taking a seat at the table, placing the gift underneath her seat. When Douglas didn't follow, she waved him over. "This breakfast isn't going to eat itself, you know."

He looked once at her, then at the present, then back at her. "What's with the package? It's not my birthday."

"I know," she stated.

Cheryl didn't say anything else before digging into her meal. Not feeling up to asking again, he simply went back to the table, sat down, and ate.

There was a short period of silence between the two before Douglas said, "I didn't know you could cook." He gave Cheryl a lopsided grin.

She laughed, saying, "Well, you can't. Last time you tried making breakfast, I couldn't tell the difference between the bacon and toast."

"Ah, come on. Wasn't _that_ bad."

"That must explain why I didn't die, and only ended up violently vomiting the entire day."

"You see? I told you it wasn't that bad."

After that, the two of them went back to focusing on their meal, only making a comment here and there about small things, like the weather, or their jobs. It was nice to just sit down and enjoy a meal together for once. Usually, they'd be taking something on the go because of work.

The more he thought about it, the more curious Douglas was as to why Cheryl wasn't at work. She almost always was busy on the weekends. When he asked, she told him that she asked for the day off, and that she'd be going in Monday instead.

He raised a brow. "Why?"

She raised a brow and shrugged before turning her attention back to her drink and taking a sip of her orange juice.

After they finished their breakfast, Douglas was ready to start cleaning up when Cheryl suddenly took over. He gave her a look, and she gave him one back. "Go wait in the living room. I'll give you your present then."

Douglas was still baffled over the situation, but did as he was asked, and made his way to the living room and to the tan couch. He sat down on the end of it, resting an arm on the couch's. He listened to the clicking of plates, the running of water, and Cheryl's soft hums as she cleaned.

Soon he found himself spacing out and turning his attention to the row of photos to his left. Or, rather, what would have been the row of photos. All that was left were empty frames. Douglas frowned, trying to figure out what could have happened to the pictures. Did he move them somewhere else? Throw them out?

Cheryl walked into the room, the package at her side. "Ready to open your preset?"

"I guess, but. . ." Douglas gave a small shrug. "I don't think I know what the occasion is."

She gave him, what Douglas has dubbed the Cheryl look. "_Seriously?_" she asked. "You really don't know what today is?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't," he replied.

Taking a seat next to Douglas on the couch, Cheryl gave a small sigh. She placed the gift onto Douglas's lap, and told him, "It's father's day." He couldn't help but to think that she looked a little hurt that he had forgotten. "I thought you'd like this."

Douglas studied her for a while, brows furrowed. "But. . . I'm not your dad."

Cheryl gave him a small smile. "I know, but. . ." She paused for a moment. "I don't know what I'd have done without you. . . after. . ."

He could see tears threatening to fall and her lip began to tremble. She was a tough girl, but after everything she had gone through, there was no way that she could have come out without some scars.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Douglas, in almost a whisper, told her, "It's alright. Everything's fine."

When a sob broke past her lips, he didn't hesitate to pull her in closer, her face pressed into his shoulder. Douglas rested his head on top of hers as he rubbed her arm, telling her that it was okay.

Cheryl hadn't cried like this since the first day they had made it out of Silent Hill. Back then, it was more in the sense of relief from all the built up stress, but now, he wasn't quite so sure why she was crying. Either way, he didn't let go until she settled down and scooted away, wiping away some tears.

She sniffled once before apologizing. "I'm sorry." Her gaze was focused on her lap. "It's just. . . I really miss him."

Douglas gave her a smile when she looked up before saying, "You don't have to apologize. If you wanna cry, go ahead and cry. If you wanna miss him, go ahead and miss him." He placed a hand on her knee. "Just know that I'll be here for you, 'kay?"

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. It was a comforting silence, one that caused the both of them to grin.

Cheryl nodded once, her lips curling up into a brighter smile. "Thanks, pops."

He felt stunned for a moment and could only stare back at her. Did he imagine it? Maybe he just wished she'd say it. Yeah, that had to be it. Besides, there was no way he deserved such a title. Not after he failed the first time around.

Still. . .

It felt nice to hear that.

"You're welcome, Cheryl."

She nudged his arm, saying, "You still have a present to open, you know."

Douglas gave a nod before picking up the package from his lap, trying to judge what it would be by the weight. It felt too heavy to be new slippers. That he was absolutely certain about. It couldn't be any kind of electronic. Cheryl couldn't afford that on her own, and Douglas' skills in that field were lacking.

Before he began to rip the wrapping off, he gave her a suspicious look, raising one brow. "'s not underwear, is it?"

Cheryl chuckled at that. "Aw, how'd you know?"

"Oh, well, you know." He tore away the bottom left corner of the gift, reveling a tan box underneath. "Private detective and all that."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, uh-huh, sure."

After throwing the wrapping to the floor, Douglas studied the square box. Clothing could fit inside this, though typically the boxes were more rectangular, he thought.

"Stop trying to guess what it is and just open it!" Cheryl crossed her arms over her chest.

Douglas gave an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright. I'm opening it." He began to lift the lid of the box. "_Sheesh._" He tossed the top to the floor, right next to his feet.

Inside the box was a scrap book. It was mainly a light cream, with a dash of rusty-red around the center opening, which held a picture. It was of him and Cheryl on the first day that he had brought her home with him. He couldn't hold back the smile that began to form.

"I was trying to figure out where all those pictures went," he said. "I'm guessin' the rest are in here?"

"You'll have to open it and find out."

And he did. On the first page, it was him and his wife sitting on the front porch of her parents' house. That, he recalled, was when he first met his in-laws. There were some more pictures of him and his wife before their marriage. Some were from small day trips, others were dates.

Then he found the pictures of their wedding. As he flipped through the section, he'd point out relatives and friends to Heather. Often, he'd find himself getting side tracked and rambling on about how he was best known for in his group of friends for his jokes, or how she was the best poker player he had ever met.

Cheryl enjoyed the pictures of them eating cake and dancing the most. She told him she didn't know he had it in him to actually dance. He said that he had to take lessons for about a month so he didn't make a fool of himself before their dance.

"And no, before you ask, I can't remember anything I learned back then."

"Aw, that's too bad," Cheryl said. "I was hoping I could learn some moves from you."

Every page had a story to be told. Even when he reached the pages with pictures of him and his son, Douglas still found himself talking about better times between them. Cheryl would nod and smile, occasionally making a comment like, "He looks a lot like you."

Douglas would nod back, often not saying anything in return.

He found himself at the end, where there were a couple pictures of him and Heather. Some little doodles she had created for him, which originally decorated his refrigerator, were placed here and there. Douglas couldn't help but tease her about some of the pictures, asking what it was suppose to be. Cheryl lightly punched his arm, telling him to knock it off.

"Besides," she said, "you love them."

Douglas laughed, studying one that looked like a slightly deformed teddy bear. "Yeah, I do."

The rest of the scrapbook was empty pages, to which Douglas ask why there wasn't anything placed there. Cheryl told him that those pictures hadn't been taken yet.

"I thought we could add on to the book together."

"I'd like that."

He closed the book and placed it on the table to his left before turning back to Cheryl. Smiling, he pulled her into a hug, thanking her for the present. "I really do like it. Thank you."

Cheryl tightened her grip, and, in a low voice, said, "You're welcome, pops."

He could get used to that.

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**The End**

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**A/N:** After not doing anything for, like, a year, I wanted to post a cute oneshot of two of my favorite characters. I guess you can say this is my head-canon of what may have happened after the events of Silent Hill 3. Also, for anyone wondering, I choose to use the name "Cheryl" because Heather did say that was what Douglas could call her by. . . So, yeah, I hope you liked it :9 Please, let me know if there are any mistakes. I'll try to fix them ASAP.

And I know the quote is more father/son, but I thought it kind of worked for this story regardless. . .

Let me know if you want to see more oneshots with these nerds :9


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